


No More Shall We Part

by switchknitter



Category: Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Thor (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Vampire, Falling In Love, Gets kind of gory though, M/M, Minor Character Deaths, No Smut, Suicidal Thoughts, but not for long
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-23
Updated: 2019-01-29
Packaged: 2019-10-14 23:46:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 8
Words: 11,135
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17518130
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/switchknitter/pseuds/switchknitter
Summary: Antonio is an Renaissance inventor driven mad with grief.  Little does he know that his savior will be the love of his very long life.Interview with the Vampirefusion, loosely.





	1. New Beginnings

**Author's Note:**

> I was inspired by Anne Rice's _Interview with the Vampire_ , although you don't need to know anything about the book to enjoy this.
> 
> Lots of minor characters die in this fic. But almost all of them deserve it, I promise.
> 
> The story is complete, and will be updated nightly.
> 
> Huge thanks to my beta, **MxVampirePunk**. Without them this would suck. Trust me. 
> 
> Thanks also to **12AngelOfDarkness21** , for help with some plot points, and my wonderful cheerleader **Wolfloner** who kept me going. You all are awesome.

_1498_

Antonio del Forte was whispering his last rosary. Not because he believed in God, but because it would make his mother happy. 

He stood precariously on the edge of a wooden dock overlooking the Tiber River. The moon was full and the night sky bright with stars, although the lights of Rome made them seem dimmer. The winter wind chilled him as it whipped through the city.

He finished his rosary. It was time.

Suddenly a man grabbed him from behind. He was strong, too strong. “If you are to die tonight, little one, allow me to assist.” The man spun him around, making Antonio’s red cloak flare.

“Let go, you son of a whore!” Antonio tried to fight him off, but the man was too tall and too strong. He was deathly pale, with long dark hair. Antonio could see the green of his eyes even in the moonlight. The paleness made him think of consumption, but the man was too strong to be ill.

“Why? Don’t you know that suicide is a mortal sin?” the man mocked. “If I take your life for you, perhaps you will enter the Heaven of your precious god.”

Antonio couldn’t help but laugh. The sound was strangled, broken. “If I believed in God, I wouldn’t be _here_.”

That seemed to catch the stranger’s interest. “And where would you be, little one?”

Antonio swallowed. “I am… was… an inventor. I would no doubt be destroying my creations and praying for God to strike me down where I stood.”

“Ah. Well. Tonight is your lucky night. I am not a god, but close enough.” The stranger opened his mouth slightly to reveal teeth sharper than any man’s. Antonio felt fear for the first time tonight. The creature -- for he could not be mortal -- pulled Antonio’s hair to bare his neck. It was oddly gentle. “Good night, little one. And farewell.”

The creature’s fangs sank into Antonio’s neck, and as the monster drank his blood, the world began to fade away.

\--------------

Antonio awoke screaming. Every fiber or his being was on fire, the pain excruciating in its relentlessness. 

“Calm yourself, little one.”

Antonio could barely open his eyes, but he knew that voice: the monster from the dock. “What,” he gasped, writhing on the bare wooden floor, “what have you done to me?”

“I am made you as myself, child.”

“Monster.” The pain was beginning to recede. Antonio found that he had lost control of his bladder and bowels while unconscious, and he felt disgusting.

“No. Vampire.” The creature was watching him closely. The room seemed brightly lit despite the lack of torches or candles. Antonio could hear scurrying within the walls. His senses seemed far sharper than they had been. “Come, little one. I have a bath and clothes waiting for you.”

Antonio stood slowly. “What are you going to do to me after?”

The monster smiled, almost kindly. “I have been looking for a companion, and you intrigue me. I will harm you no further.”

Antonio was desperate enough to clean himself that he allowed the creature to lead him to a privacy screen, behind which a bathtub sat full of steaming water. There were soft-looking linen towels draped over the screen, and clean garments on a plain wooden chair. He began to strip and wash.

“Do you have a name?” Antonio asked. The bath felt like ecstasy. Water had never felt like this before, so pure and perfect. Antonio realized that it was himself that felt strange, and that the water was just water. He was so busy concentrating on the sensations that he failed to hear the vampire speak. Then he heard a low laugh from the creature.

“What amuses you?” Antonio asked.

“I said, I will give you my name in return for yours.”

“Antonio del Forte,” he said absently, entranced by the way the water droplets looked on his skin.

The creature gasped. “The da Vinci of Sicily! Oh, I have caught myself a lovely prize.”

Antonio scowled. “I am no prize, monster.”

“Oh, but you have spent your whole life as a prize, have you not? The child prodigy, the Pope’s master builder, the creator of fantastic machines.”

“You seem to know a great deal about me,” Antonio said. 

“I know everyone of importance in the City.”

The bath was cooling rapidly, but it did not make him cold. Still, he rose from the tub to dry himself. The creature had provided clothes, silks and velvets that nearly fit him. The fabrics felt better than anything Antonio had ever experienced, whispering against his skin as he moved.

Stepping out of from behind the screen, he got his first real look at the monster. His first impressions -- height, dark hair, green eyes -- still held true. He was utterly beautiful. The green silk of his shirt shimmered in the darkness, and gold threads sparkled in the black velvet doublet he wore. His pants and boots were black as well, the boots shined to perfection.

The creature smiled and sketched a bow. “I am Loki of Asgard,” he said. “It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance.”

Antonio couldn’t help but laugh bitterly. “So polite for one who _made me a monster_ ,” he replied, his words descending to a growl.

“You will find that you will not mind so much, in time.” Loki said lightly. “Come, little one. We must hunt.”

“You wish me to kill.” Antonio felt disgusted by the idea.

“Rapists, murderers, thieves. No one who does not deserve it.”

Antonio considered that. “Might we take my mother’s killer first?”

Loki laughed.


	2. Retribution

Antonio led Loki to the home of his mother, on the outskirts of the city. Maria del Forte’s second husband was wealthy, and the house was a large one. Shadows from the trees in the yard dimmed the buff-colored walls and clay tiled roof. The large arched windows was dark, which meant the servants had all gone to bed.

Good. Antonio had a murder to commit.

Grazia Alboresi had raped and murdered his own wife, but he had enough money to bribe the authorities. Now he would pay for what he’d done. Antonio could not go back to his previous life, not as a monster. But he could be a monster on his own terms. Alboresi must die.

Antonio had a key to the house. He let himself in, Loki following close behind. They moved on silent feet. The smell of humans was everywhere, mixed with the lingering scents of beeswax and roasted meat. Antonio could hear heartbeats: one upstairs -- Alboresi, no doubt -- and six servants in the back of the house. He would kill Alboresi, and they would sneak back out none the wiser.

Loki’s human manservant drove them to the house and waited some distance from the entrance. On the way over Loki had explained the best way to kill their prey: hypnotize them with the eyes so they would be silent, and then bury fangs in the neck. Other areas of the body worked almost as well, Loki said, but the neck was the easiest to reach and was the least messy. The plan was for Loki to entrance Alboresi, and then Antonio could feed for the first time.

Antonio led the way up the stairs to the master’s bedroom. He was excited. He knew he shouldn’t be, that killing went against God, the Church, and society; however, he had lost faith in all those things years before.

Maybe he was meant to be a monster, after all.

Quietly he and Loki entered Alboresi’s bedroom. The man was on his back, the bedcovers neat as he slept peacefully. Antonio was furious. How dare his mother’s killer sleep so soundly, and in their marriage bed at that! And the sound of the heartbeat called to him, the blood flowing through the murderer’s body…

Before he realized what he was doing, he was pulling Alboresi from the bed. The man screamed as Antonio sunk his new fangs into his prey’s neck and drank. Oh, the blood spurting from the wound tasted so very good, better than the finest wine, and more filling than any food Antonio had ever tasted. He was drunk on it, and he wanted so much more.

Alboresi’s heartbeat slowed, and Antonio began to feel sluggish. Loki yanked the man away from Antonio. “Never drink until the heartbeat stops. Dead blood will destroy you,” Loki hissed. He dropped the corpse to the floor.

Antonio barely paid attention. Someone was opening the door, someone must have heard Alboresi’s scream. He was still so hungry… The newcomer was Alboresi’s manservant, the one who had given the Roman authorities his employer’s alibi for Maria’s murder. Antonio tore into the servant, feeling hardly more than a mindless beast. Loki flew from the room as Antonio drank his fill. Sated at last, he let go of the dying man.

Alboresi was dead, and Antonio felt nothing but pleasure in the act. He felt intoxicated in a way he’d never experienced before. It was blissful, a peace he’d never known in life.

Loki was shaking him. “Come, we must go.” He smelled of fresh blood and woodsmoke. Had he fed as well? Antonio had no time to think as Loki grasped his hand and dragged him to the window. Loki pushed the window open and pulled Antonio out, leaping over the edge of the balcony.

Antonio was surprised to find he did not hurt from the jump. His mind began to clear as he smelled fire, far more than the banked coals of the fireplaces. He looked back just as crackling flames began to eat through the walls of the house. The light hurt his eyes. “What have you done?” he shouted at Loki. “The other servants--”

“Are dead,” Loki replied. He was calm. “We could afford no witnesses.” He once again took Antonio’s wrist and pulled him to the waiting carriage. “Go, Bembo,” he ordered his servant, shoving Antonio inside before leaping in after him. The carriage began to move, rattling as it flew down the dusty road.

Antonio righted himself on the seat. “I can’t believe you killed them all!”

Loki laughed mockingly. “If you hadn’t been so hasty to kill Alboresi, we could have let them live.”

Antonio clenched his teeth, fighting off a wave of guilt. “You knew this would happen.”

“I suspected it might.” Loki shrugged elegantly. “It is no matter. No doubt they all knew who killed your mother. There is no evidence now. But we cannot stay in Rome.” He smiled. “Have you ever been to Milan?”

Shaking his head, Antonio looked out the window into the night. Innocents had died because of him. He wished he’d been able to jump off that infernal pier, that he’d never met Loki.

“Come now,” Loki said softly. “It isn’t all terrible. You have all the time in the world now to invent, to create, to learn. I am a scholar myself, and I can show you libraries beyond your wildest dreams.”

“Will we have to kill anyone to access them?” Antonio asked bitterly.

“Don’t be stupid.” Loki was angry. “We only kill those who deserve it.”

“And who decides that?” Antonio snapped. He wished he could harm Loki, but he was certain Loki was stronger. He also feared what would happen if Loki left him before he could learn to navigate his new existence.

“We do, of course.” Loki smiled beatifically. “Mortals are nothing compared to us.”

Antonio went back to staring out the window. He didn’t know if Loki was right or not, but he was done talking for now.

Which was it better to be? He wondered. Mortal, or monster?


	3. Loki's Tale

After perhaps an hour of silence on the road to Milan, Antonio finally spoke. “Who are you, exactly? I know what you are, but I would learn more of you.”

Loki seemed pleased by the request. He smiled gently. “My people were known as the Ostmen. Your society calls us _vichinghi_. I was born some five centuries ago in Norway, and accompanied my people on many quests throughout northern Europe when I was young. Even then I had a gift for languages, and our warriors used me as a translator in strange lands.

“When I was in my twenty-fifth year, I fell in battle and lay broken on the field when a man found me. Rather, I thought him a man, until he lifted me in his arms and smiled. I had never met a vampire before, although there were legends of them. I saw fangs and knew I had met my death.

“Only… he looked me over carefully. My leg was broken in multiple places, as were one of my arms and several ribs. I was not bleeding, though, which is why he chose me of all the dying men around me. He looked at me and said, ‘oh, you are very pretty.’ He began to drink from me, and thus ending my mortal life.”

Loki wore an expression of distaste. “I awoke as you did, in pain and screaming. Once I recovered and had fed on one of my former comrades, my sire introduced himself. He was Thor, he told me, and he was a founder of the Ostmen. He said I should be grateful that he had saved me, and he demanded I repay him in sexual favors.”

Antonio gasped, but Loki waved a hand dismissively. “Thor was not ungentle, so long as I ceded to his wishes. He was a brute who believed himself to be correct in every regard, but he never truly hurt me. I suffered much less than the mortals he took in our travels. He preferred to ravish his prey as he fed on them, which I loathed.

“We traveled for some twenty years together, before a pretty woman caught his eye and became his new companion.” Loki sighed. “It was a relief to me, I admit. I was tired of his boorish ways. While I am comfortable killing mortals for food, I dislike toying with them beforehand. It is cruel. I also was desperate to learn more of the world, to read and write and learn from scholars everywhere I traveled. Thor was only interested in killing and pillaging. He lived for battle, and for dining off the defeated.

“Once I was on my own, I did everything I wanted to do. I visited learned men, crept into libraries at night, apprenticed myself to alchemists and wise women. I began feeding only on the morally degenerate, to ease my conscious. I did try animal blood, but it is like drinking brackish water.

“I have encountered Thor from time to time, although he keeps mostly to his ancestral lands. He always speaks to me with disdain, but has never sought to harm me so long as I show deference to him. I despise doing so, but he is older and stronger than me.”

Loki relaxed back in his seat.

Antonio thought. “Am I to be your… concubine?”

“No!” The vampire replied vehemently. “I would never do to another what Thor did to me.” He calmed himself, brushing his long black hair from his face. “I chose you for your mind. Most of our kind become such because they are handsome, and as such I lacked a companion who could match my intelligence.”

Antonio was relieved enough that he couldn’t resist teasing his new sire. “What, am I not pretty enough for you?”

Loki’s eyes gleamed in the darkness. “You are quite handsome, Antonio. But I would never force you, or anyone else.”

“Thank you for that.” Antonio found himself enjoying the flirtation, liking his sire’s obvious intelligence and wit. A voice in the back of his mind reminded him that this creature had murdered him and five more besides all in the span of an evening. But he told himself firmly that, if he had to be a monster, it was better than he like the vampire who had made him that way.

“Tell me of our kind, if you would. I know our senses are better, and that we are stronger and faster than mortals. We can take mental control of our… prey,” he shuddered at the word. “But what of our weaknesses? Can we die?”

Loki turned somber. “Fire will harm us, and a wooden stake through the heart will turn us to ashes. There are hunters in the world who are aware of this, and would see us all dead. You must avoid them at all costs.

“While you are young you must avoid the light of the sun, for it will burn you up. Once you are perhaps two centuries old, it will merely weaken you, but you can become accustomed to it. It is possible to pass for human, once I have taught you to hide yourself in a glamour, but you will be only able to live at night for the time being. I am sorry for that.” Loki seemed genuinely contrite.

Two hundred years without daylight. Antonio mourned for the loss, but given how much the fire Loki set earlier had hurt his eyes, it did not surprise him. He was so lost in thought for a while, taking in what his maker had said, that he was startled when the carriage came to a stop. “Where are we?”

“A safe house, so that you may spend the day in darkness.” Loki opened the carriage door and motioned Antonio out. They stood before the high gates of a large villa in an older style, its roof tiles cracked in a few places. The hedges were overgrown, but the place was not in total disrepair. Strangely, the windows were bricked over. “Leap over the gate,” Loki instructed.

Antonio eyed him, disbelieving, but Loki gave him an encouraging smile. Antonio jumped as high as he could -- and sailed over the gate, much to his shock. He landed hard on the rich earth, and began to laugh.

Loki followed him over gracefully, offering Antonio his hand. He pulled Antonio upright. “Come. It is nearly dawn, and I would not have you wounded.” Loki led the way to the door.

A young human woman answered. Loki asked, “Is your mistress at home? I am Loki, and I seek refuge for the day.”

The girl dipped her head and bade them inside. “Please wait here.” It was dark save for the small lantern the girl held, but Antonio could see easily. The furnishings were antique but well-kept. There was no fire in the great fireplace.

A few minutes later a pretty blonde woman in a pale green gown swept in. “Loki!”

Loki hugged the woman. Antonio realized she had no heartbeat. “Antonio, this is Amora, an old friend. Amora, this is my protege, Antonio.”

Amora looked shocked. “You have sired a child? After all this time?”

“Child?” Antonio asked. He was no child. He was in his fortieth year!

“Pardon, Antonio. It is a term of lineage only, as I am your sire. I do not think of you a a child in the way mortals mean it.”

Antonio felt relief. As he relaxed, he realized he was tired.

Amora took his arm. “Come, Antonio. I will show you to your resting place.”

Antonio looked back at Loki. “What of you?”

“I will rest later,” Loki said. “I would spend some time with Amora before I join you.”

Amora led him to a bedchamber. It looked rarely used, but was not dusty. “You will be safe here, young one.”

He believed her, somehow. “Thank you, Signora.” He kissed her hand, as was custom. “Rest well.”

“Thank you.” Amora left, closing the door behind her.

Antonio undressed himself, laying his clothes on a chair. He slid under the blue coverlet, though he was not cold even in the winter chill. He desired time to think, to process what had happened in the course of a mere night.

Instead, sleep dragged him under.


	4. A Taste of Home

Antonio didn’t dream.

When he awoke he felt certain it was after dusk, though he couldn’t be sure. The bricked-up windows would not let light in even at full noon. He rose, feeling hunger throbbing in his belly.

While he slept, someone had brought in a wash basin and pitcher. Antonio scrubbed at his face and neck, then dressed. There was a large mirror above the vanity that he hadn’t noticed in his earlier exhaustion. He gazed at himself.

He still looked mostly the same, but the wrinkles around his eyes had filled out. It gave him a sense of youthfulness that he had lacked before. His beard showed no growth, still a pointed goatee. He wondered if it would look the same for eternity. His hair showed no change either; he had tried for years to bob it, but it was so curly he gave up a decade before. Instead it fell in loose ringlets to his shoulders. It was unfashionable, yes, but he was known for his eccentricism anyway. His eyes seemed darker, somehow, as if he’d tinted them with nightshade like women did.

There was a knock at the door. “Yes?” he called.

It was Loki. “I have come to feed you,” he said softly. “There are few criminals in the countryside, and you need sustenance for the night.”

Antonio swallowed. “I don’t wish to hurt you.”

Loki smiled. He truly was beautiful, Antonio thought. “I will heal nearly immediately, little one.” He began to unlace the top part of his shirt as he sat on the edge of the bed. “Come. Drink.”

Antonio approached him slowly, worrying that he would damage his sire, despite Loki’s reassurances. He recalled all too well how savage he’d been the night before. Antonio came close, nearly pressing himself against Loki, and looked at the marble-white skin of his neck.

Saliva began to pool in his mouth, and he swallowed again. “Bite, then remove your fangs and suck,” Loki told him. “Take your time. I will let you know before I grow weak.”

Antonio bit into the white flesh. It wasn’t as yielding as the humans’ had been last night, so he pressed harder with his fangs until he broke through the skin fully. Blood welled up and over his tongue; not as quickly as with the mortals and their quick heartbeats. Antonio began to suck.

His sire tasted like ambrosia. His blood was thicker, sweeter somehow. More like port than red wine. He savored every drop, pulling the blood from his sire’s body. He shifted closer, straddling Loki’s thighs as he drank.

Too soon, Loki said, “Enough.” Antonio wanted more, but Loki pulled his head back by the hair. “Enough!” It didn’t hurt, but rather added to his arousal. And oh, he was aroused. He could feel his hardness pressing against Loki’s belly.

It took him a long moment to recover himself enough to be embarrassed. Antonio looked down at his maker’s face and couldn’t mask his own desire. Loki surged up and kissed him hungrily, licking his own blood from Antonio’s mouth. Antonio moaned at the pleasure of it, so unlike his mortal passion. It was delicious and he wanted more.

Eventually Loki pulled back. “We cannot continue this here,” Loki told him, and Antonio felt a surge of disappointment. Loki smiled gently. “I am not rejecting you, my sweet, but I cannot reach hardness without having fed.” He nosed at Antonio’s neck. “If you wish to continue this once we reach Milan, I would gladly have you in my bed.”

Antonio slid off his sire’s lap and grinned slyly. “I will consider it.”

Loki arched an eyebrow, playing along. “How very kind of you.” He laughed. “Let us go. We must reach Milan before sunrise.” He stood.

“Another safehouse?” Antonio asked as they left the room.

“I own a small villa there,” Loki said easily. “I own many properties, although I do not keep servants at them all.”

Amora greeted them in the entryway. She wore another green gown, although it was different than the last. “It was lovely to see you again, Loki.” She hugged him. “Antonio, it was a pleasure to meet you. Take care of this one for me,” she teased.

“Thank you for your hospitality, old friend.” Loki opened the door. He and Antonio stepped out into the brisk night air.

“Safe travels,” she wished them, then closed the door.

Loki’s manservant and the carriage were waiting. The vampires climbed in, and they set off for Milan.

\----

On the trip they talked of many things: Loki’s scholarly pursuits and the places he’d been, and Antonio’s many inventions. Loki’s intelligence was refreshing. There were many learned men and intelligent women in Rome, but Loki was the first he’d met in decades who could keep up with his turns of thought. Antonio was liking his sire more and more, despite they way they had come together.

And yet, when they found themselves in the city, Antonio began to doubt. Loki was leading him down a dark alley in the worst part of town, showing him how to keep to the shadows. Antonio was about to kill again, and it made him uncomfortable. What was he doing? Perhaps it would have been best if he’d died in the Tiber after all.

Suddenly Loki threw his arm out, blocking Antonio from continuing. “See those men?” he whispered, tipping his chin to indicate where they were. Antonio looked, and spotted two men waiting in the shadows. Both were dressed in ragged clothing, and their knives gleamed in their hands. “Read their minds. See if they’re unworthy.”

“How?” Antonio whispered back.

“Look at one, and imagine reaching out into his thoughts.”

Antonio tried, and tried again. It took a few moments, but soon he was getting impressions of previous murders, robberies, rapes. The second man was no better. Antonio couldn’t read their thoughts clearly, but what he saw was enough.

Loki seemed to understand his reaction. “When you are done, lick the wounds. It will seal them enough that no one will notice the bite, unless you lose yourself and rip their throats out.” That was what Antonio had did to his mother’s killer. “Do what I do, and then look the one on the right directly in the eyes and will him to stillness. Trust your instincts, but do not lose control.”

Loki walked into the dim light and began talking in a normal tone of voice. “I told my wife just yesterday that she couldn’t add yet another room to the villa,” he groused, playing the role of an annoyed but wealthy husband.

Antonio laughed, keeping pace beside him. “She has you wrapped around her finger and you know it. I--” He stopped speaking as the cutthroats emerged from their hiding spot.

“Look at what Providence has brought us, Spinello!” The man on the right said menacingly. If Antonio was still mortal, he would have feared for his life. Instead he made eye contact with the man. Sleep, he thought, forgetting that he was supposed to immobilize his victim and not knock him unconscious. The bandit fell to the ground as his friend froze in place, frozen under Loki’s gaze.

“Feed now. Quickly!” Loki sprang forward and embraced his prey. Antonio lifted his up, awkward, and bit into his neck carefully. He drank until the heartbeat began to slow, then licked at the wounds as Loki had instructed.

Loki had finished already, and was dragging his victim’s corpse back into the shadows. Antonio did the same. “There,” Loki said. “You did beautifully. I’m so proud of you.” Antonio felt warm, both from Loki’s praise and from the blood spreading through his body. “Let’s go home, before we are spotted.”

\----------

Their new home was a tiny, immaculately kept villa on the edge of Milan. Houses were further apart than in the crowded city, but not as distant as in the countryside. Loki knocked on the door.

A sleepy servant in a plain black robe answered, waking further upon seeing Loki. “Master!” He opened the door wide. “Please, my lord, I am sorry, I received no word you were arriving--”

“It is fine, Vincenzo. I sent no word. I apologize for surprising you.”

“Let me light the fires,” Vincenzo insisted. “It will only take a moment.” He scurried off to fulfill his duties.

“Does he know what you are?” Antonio said quietly.

“Yes. He and Bembo are brothers. Their family has served me for three generations. They are bound to me by an oath of silence.” Loki took off his cloak and collapsed on the settee. “Relax, little one. We are safe here.”

Antonio took off his own cloak and laid it next to Loki’s. “You didn’t mention that ability before.”

Loki waved a hand. “My apologies. There is a great deal I must teach you.” He smiled. “Happily, we have time. I must also teach you the glamour to make mortals think we are one of them.”

Antonio sat next to his sire, and listened carefully. He had much to learn.


	5. Hedonist

Antonio and Loki stayed together late into the night, sitting before a banked fire in the villa’s comfortable main room. It was peaceful, yet thrilling for Antonio. He had never met anyone as interesting as Loki. He wanted to talk for hours more, yet as dawn drew close he could feel himself tire.

Loki could see his exhaustion. “Come, little one. I will show you to your room. We will sleep well today.” He stood, and -- much to Antonio’s surprise -- led him down a set of stairs. At Antonio’s query, Loki replied, “We must sleep below-ground here. Neighbors would wonder too much if the windows were bricked up, as they were at Amora’s.”

Antonio’s room was furnished in red and gold -- his own colors. “I approve of your decorating scheme,” he said, teasing his sire.

Loki smiled. “I have a few guest rooms. I thought this one most to your liking.”

“It is. Thank you.”

“When you wake, we will feed, and then my tailor will come and take your measurements.” Loki turned to leave.

“Is-- is there anything I might do to repay you for your kindness?”

Loki’s smile grew wider. “Thank you, little one, but I brought you into this life. I gladly take responsibility for your well-being. Besides,” he said, turning his head slightly to look at Antonio coyly, “your company is repayment enough.”

Antonio hoped he would have the chance to share Loki’s bed soon. That look… Loki knew the effect it would have, and it worked well. “Perhaps tonight we can get to know each other better.”

“I would like that.”

They shared a heated look, which was broken by Antonio’s yawn. Loki laughed. “Good night, my friend. Rest well.”

“You too, Loki.” As his sire closed the door behind him, Antonio looked at his room more closely. Red velvets, dark brown furs… Comfortable, but lonely. For now. He undressed and laid under the coverlet, already looking forward to dusk.

\---

When he woke, he felt hungry, but oddly content. Just three nights ago he had been ready to end his life, and now he actually had an existence he looked forward to. Strange, that it took his death to make him feel alive again.

He washed, dressed, and went upstairs. He was glad the tailor was coming. Wearing a dead man’s clothes was uncomfortable. He could hear three human heartbeats, one very fast, and was confused. Loki’s manservants, and…?

“Come into the kitchen,” Loki called. Antonio followed his sire’s voice, and found Loki in a small kitchen with his men and a man dressed as a priest. The latter was bound and gagged. “I had my men bring you a meal here,” Loki said. “We have better ways to spend our time tonight than hunting.”

“Oh.” Antonio hadn’t thought of that as a possibility. He reached into the bound human’s mind. He was a priest, and he took advantage of his position to molest young boys. Fury welled up in him.

“Don’t make a mess,” Loki warned, seeing Antonio’s rage. “Slow and easy. He will hurt no one else after this.”

Antonio calmed himself and approached his prey. Quiet, he mentally commanded the priest. The human went slack, and Antonio took him into his arms. He fought the urge to rend the man limb from limb, instead biting into his neck -- a little harder than necessary -- and drinking down his lifesblood.

He handed the dying man to the servants, who were waiting. They took the body silently, as if this was a normal part of their duties. Perhaps it was. Antonio turned to Loki as the mortals left through the kitchen door. “Have you fed already?”

Loki shook his head. “I’m not hungry at the moment. With age, you will need less as well. I will feed again in two or three days. But you, young one? We must keep up your strength. Otherwise you could turn ravenous, and take innocents. We would not flee as successfully this time, either.”

Antonio shuddered at the idea of tearing into mortals indiscriminately. He could picture it easily, and some part of him took joy in the thought. Best to repress that part of himself, if possible. He was coming to realize he was not truly a monster, but there were still lines he could cross that would make him so.

“Relax, sweet.” Loki came close and rested his hands on his Antonio’s shoulders. “I will help you, in this and all things. You will not get to that point again as long as I am with you.”

Antonio hugged Loki without thinking about it. “Thank you.” The feel of his sire’s body was comforting, if not warm.

Loki kissed the top of his head. “I sent word to the tailor this morning that he was needed. I told him you’d lost everything in a fire and needed a new wardrobe. He should be here shortly.” Antonio looked up at him -- damn, the man was tall -- and Loki bent his head to kiss him. Their lips met, and Loki licked into Antonio’s mouth, no doubt tasting blood from the priest. Antonio moaned, and was disappointed when it didn’t last. Loki chuckled. “Come now, little one. We don’t want to shock the tailor too much. He is a man of faith --” Loki rolled his eyes “-- but his work is exquisite and he asks no questions.”

Antonio sighed. No doubt Loki was right, but… Antonio had been a hedonist when he was alive, and he was dying (ha!) to explore his new senses with a lover. With Loki. He pushed aside the thoughts and followed Loki to the main room to wait.

\---

The tailor was a gruff, elderly Corsican. He had brought a set of clothes with him that were close to Antonio’s size; he would take them back and alter them to fit properly once the rest of the wardrobe was complete. He had brought smallclothes as well, for which Antonio was grateful. While he no longer sweated or excreted, he liked the feel of fresh underthings against his skin. The tailor took Antonio’s measurements in private, talking no more than necessary as he went about his work. Antonio was grateful. He and Loki had come up with a cover story, but the less he had to lie, the better.

No one would be looking for Antonio del Forte. He had left a suicide note, after all, and everyone would assume he had drowned in the Tiber as he said he would. He was Antonio di Fiorelli now, an architect from Sicily. His mother had been the only person tying him to that life. He had planned to die because he felt alone in the world; despite his many acquaintances and sycophants, he had no true friends, and he’d lived alone since his wife Letta had passed two years before. Yes, he had had his work to keep him company, but it was lonely with no one he could trust.

But it seemed he could trust Loki. He had no choice, really. He knew no one, and was in an unfamiliar city. He had committed several murders in just three nights. He was alone -- except for his sire.

He was glad it had been Loki who found him, and not some brute like Thor. Then he might just walk into the sunlight and end this existence, too.

Antonio’s morbid train of thought was interrupted by the tailor. “We are done, signore.” Antonio dressed in his new garments as the tailor packed up his things. “I will have your new garments done as soon as possible.”

“Thank you,” Antonio said, and escorted the man back to the main room. The tailor and Loki shook hands, and the mortal departed.

“Something wrong, little one?” Loki asked, closing the door behind the human.

“No, nothing.” Antonio shook his head. “I was just thinking how lucky I am to have you as my sire, and not someone less… moral.”

Loki brightened. “I’m glad you are pleased, my friend.” He paused. “We are friends, are we not?”

Antonio would have blushed if he was still mortal. “More than that, I should hope.”

Loki’s bright green eyes glowed with pleasure. “Come, then, little one. Let me show you what two creatures such as ourselves can do together.”

Antonio smiled back at his maker, his friend, his lover. “Lead the way?”

“Always.”


	6. Lost Boy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hold on to your hats, kids. This chapter's a rough one.

August, 1888

Anthony Strong was getting tired of waiting. It was going on nine o’clock, and London was lit up outside his living room window. Electric lighting made the town seem brilliant, even when the sun had set hours before. He felt proud every time he saw them. He had developed the arc lights, albeit under (yet another) nom de guerre. He had already invented their replacement, too, set to be installed later in the year. The mortals now went about at night nearly as much as they did during the day. Hunting was slightly more difficult, but it was worth it to see his technology make lives better. Brighter.

Loki was late. Things had been strained between them recently. They were better off when they took regular breaks from each other -- a few months apart, every decade or so -- but when Anthony suggested it last week, Loki said he had something else in mind.

There -- the sound of footsteps on the back stair that led up from the alley. Two sets? And one beating human heart, sluggish. Surely Loki hadn’t brought prey here? In the city?

Loki came in, impeccably put together as always in a black suit and top hat. He was half-dragging a young man -- barely more than a boy -- who was obviously very ill. Cholera, Anthony guessed. It was everywhere lately. “I have brought you a gift, my love,” Loki said.

“I don’t feed on children and neither do you,” Anthony hissed. “And how dare you bring food here--”

“He’s not food!” Loki interjected. He stroked the boy’s cheek gently. Comfortingly. The boy seemed to not notice, nor was he aware of anything around him. He was near death. “This is Peter. He is to be our son.”

“Our… son.” Anthony stared at his lover disbelievingly. What in the world was Loki thinking?

“I have been visiting him for some time, ever since I found him ill and shivering in a one-room flat. He is alone in the world, all his relatives dead, and he is very bright. Bright enough to keep up with us.” Loki looked at him pleadingly. “You have often wished for a protege. I have found you one.”

It was tempting, Anthony thought. But he was happy with their life together, aside from the occasional friction of a couple as long-lived as they were.

Loki could see Anthony hesitating. “I take the choice from you, then,” Loki said, and took the boy in his arms. He soothed the boy even as he bit into his neck and began to drain him.

Damn Loki. Anthony took off his jacket and rolled up one shirt sleeve. As the boy’s heartbeat slowed, Anthony grabbed a blanket from the chaise longue and laid it on the floor. “Put him here,” he said, resigned. “It won’t do to get blood on the carpet.”

Loki smiled triumphantly as he lowered the dying boy to the floor. Anthony tore his own wrist open and put it to the boy’s lips. “Drink,” he commanded, mentally willing the boy to obey. And he did, slowly at first, and then latching onto Anthony’s wrist and pulling deep draughts from him. “Ouch. Jesus. Let go!” He ripped his arm away, leaving the boy gasping. Anthony had fed the night before, but now he would need to again.

Anthony had never witnessed a vampire’s turning before. Loki had never turned another after Anthony, and Anthony had never done it himself. It looked painful. He dimly remembered it being so, but four centuries had passed since then and that night was but a distant memory. Hungry, he stood up and rolled his sleeve back down his already-healed wrist. “I’ll be back,” he told Loki as he shrugged into his coat. “Watch him.” He headed down the back stairs. He didn’t need to tell Loki where he was going; it was obvious. Anthony slipped into the night, unseen.

\---

When he returned a little over an hour later, it was with a full belly and four sets of off-the-rack clothes for the boy. Department stores were open late, catering to the working classes. It had been easy enough to purchase clothes for his “son.”

As if he could so easily adopt a strange child. Loki was mad, Anthony was certain of it.

Loki and the boy sat on the couch, side by side, not quite touching. The boy no longer looked ill. He practically glowed with good health and Anthony’s blood in his veins. “Hello, Father.” The boy’s accent was strange.

“I’m not your--” Anthony sighed. “My name is currently Anthony Strong. You are Peter, right?”

“Peter Parker,” the boy agreed, looking nervous in the face of Anthony’s annoyance.

“It’s Peter Strong now, I suppose.” Anthony held out the bags of clothes. “For you.”

“Thank you, Sir.” Peter leaned forward to take the bags. He reached into one and pulled out a shirt, examining the fabric. “I’ve-- I’ve never had any so nice as these, Sir.”

Anthony shrugged. “It’s nothing,” he said gruffly. “We’ll get you something better soon.”

Loki spoke for the first time since his lover’s return. “Peter was a university student before he became ill,” he offered. “He is fifteen, and was the youngest in his class. He came here all the way from America to study.” He was trying to impress Anthony. And damn it, it was working.

“What were you studying?” Anthony asked reluctantly.

“Engineering. Electricity is fascinating, don’t you think?” The boy’s excitement made Anthony want to test him, see how much he knew. Loki knew Anthony too well. It showed in his choice of Peter as their… protege.

Anthony sat down, and gave in to temptation. “What do you know of alternating current?” he began, and settled in to learn more about their new child.

\---

A couple of hours later they took Peter for his first meal. It was Anthony’s second trip to the East End that evening. He hated the stench of the place, but appreciated the easy hunting. They found a cutpurse in a dark alley, and Anthony mentally commanded him to stillness. “Go on, Peter,” Loki whispered. “Slow and steady.”

Peter anxiously approached his prey, but as soon as he tasted blood something in him seemed to snap. As he drank he crushed his victim against him, breaking bones and tearing his throat out like an animal. The man screamed, even through his torpor, as Peter took him to pieces.

It took a moment for Anthony to realize he needed to do something. The screams would have attracted someone, even in a place as awful as the Bowery. And what Peter was doing… It was horrific. He looked over at Loki, who seemed just as disturbed. Loki rushed forward and pulled the dying man away from Peter, snapping his throat. Peter growled at him, no more than a beast. Loki grabbed his arm, catching his eye. “Sleep.” Peter started to fall, and Anthony caught him.

“I’ll take care of the body,” Loki said lowly as he picked up the corpse. “You get Peter home.” Loki disappeared, body over one shoulder, headed towards the river.

Small as Anthony was, his coat was big on Peter. That was good, it needed to cover up the blood spatter on Peter’s clothes. He took his handkerchief out of the pocket and wiped the blood from the boy’s face. Anthony woke the child, hoping he would have regained his senses. “Boy! Can you walk?”

“Yessir. I… what happened?” Peter seemed to be in a fugue of some sort.

“We’ll talk more at home, Peter,” Anthony said soothingly. “Come with me.”

Somehow he managed to get them home, although Peter moved more slowly than Anthony would have liked. Loki was waiting when they arrived. He was in his shirtsleeves, cravat off. Anthony could smell the soap he’d used to wash the wasted blood off himself. That poor mortal. A criminal though he may have been, no one deserved such an ending.

“What were you thinking, Peter?” Loki almost shouted. They lived alone on the top floor of their building, but voices could carry if too loud. Anthony could see Loki forcing himself to calm.

“You said we only feed on criminals. Don’t they deserve to be punished?”

Anthony and Loki shared a look of horror. “We are punishing them by killing them,” Anthony said slowly. “They don’t deserve to suffer, and besides, you wasted half the man’s blood with your frenzy.”

Peter seemed to have come back to himself. “I am sorry, sirs. I will be better next time.” The boy looked worried. “I can be good, sirs. I promise.”

\---

Peter had sworn he would do better, but the next night was even worse. Whenever Peter tasted blood, it seemed, he turned into a ravening beast.

“We have to do something about him,” Anthony said to Loki as Peter was washing up after the night’s bloodbath.

“I brought him here. I will end him.” Loki sighed. “I am sorry, my love.” He leaned in and kissed Anthony gently.

“Wait.” It was Peter. They hadn’t heard him come back in. “You two are Mary Anns?”

The couple scowled. The slang term for men who slept with other men was an offensive one. “Problem?” Loki said icily.

“Yeah it’s a problem!” Peter looked disgusted. “That’s a sin! It’s gross! Wait, did you bring me here to make me one of you?”

“Don’t be ridiculous.” Loki was as nauseated as Peter, but for different reasons. “We would never do that to a child.”

“How do I know? You turn me into a killer, why not a poof too?” Peter ran for the door. “Follow me and I’ll tell everyone what you are. What you did to me.” His feet clattered down the stairs.

“We’ll be able to find him,” Loki said heavily. “He’ll leave a trail of bodies, after all.”

“Fuck,” Anthony swore vehemently.

“Indeed.”

\---

It was only a few days later when the newspapers printed a story about a prostitute disemboweled in the East End. They said her throat had been cut, but Anthony and Loki knew better. A week later, another prostitute was dead. Peter was probably killing others, besides, but the victims hadn’t been found.

Peter’s choices of victims made the couple especially sad. They had known prostitutes in their long lives, and considered the women victims more than sinners.

Time went on. More women were killed. The press were calling him “Jack the Ripper.”

Anthony and Loki were smart men, but they were no detectives. In the middle of November Anthony came across Peter almost by accident. It was just after dawn, and Anthony was on his way home from his workshop. He smelled blood -- too much blood -- and followed the scent to a factory basement.

Peter was sleeping. It took no effort at all to drag him into the light. He turned to dust, never waking.

Anthony shed no tears.

\---

“I found Peter,” Anthony said when he arrived home. “I killed him.” He walked straight into their bedroom and found his suitcase.

“What are you doing?” Loki asked.

“Leaving. I need… I need time.” Anthony threw some clothes in the case. He’d send for the rest, take a cruise ship to America. Yes. That sounded good.

“I understand.” God, the guilt in Loki’s voice killed Anthony.

“I don’t blame you,” Anthony offered, but he sort of did and Loki knew it. “Just… just give me six months. You still own that brownstone in New York City?”

“I do.” Loki had bought it during a research trip last year.

“Meet me there in six months.” Tony picked up his case. “I love you.”

“I love you too.” Loki’s green eyes shone with tears, but Anthony couldn’t feel anything but numb.

\--

Loki never came.


	7. A Mystery

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is a remix of the first Avengers movie, with a twist. So some dialogue may sound very familiar...

_2012_

Tony Stark was in his shiny new tower, his CEO Pepper Potts by his side. He was satisfied, for the moment. He felt accomplished, the building lit up under the power of the arc reactor. Clean energy was the future. It had to be, before the humans destroyed the planet.

No humans, no food. That, and since Loki had disappeared, Tony had grown used to living among the mortals. He’d had no other choice. He’d met others of his kind over the years, but most of them were either indiscriminate killers or else obsessed with petty feuds and group politics. He had no interest in either. So he spent his time with humans, pretending to age, and then “dying” young to start fresh again. It sucked.

He was preparing to run diagnostics on the building when JARVIS interrupted. “Sir, the telephone. I'm afraid my protocols are being overwritten.”

Before Tony could start to fix the problem, the caller spoke. “Stark, we need to talk.” It was Coulson. Damn. SHIELD were a bunch of vampire hunters who thought they could murder Tony’s kind indiscriminately. They didn’t know what Tony was, and they wouldn’t hesitate to kill him if he was discovered.

Tony put on a fake smile and put Coulson on video. “You have reached the life model decoy of Tony Stark, please leave a message.”

“This is urgent,” Coulson insisted, without a trace of humor.

“Then leave it urgently,” Tony replied. He didn’t want to deal with whatever emergency SHIELD had come up with. He wanted nothing to do with them, and hadn’t for some time. Iron Man was for dealing with terrorists, not his fellow vampires.

Unfortunately, the elevator doors opened and Coulson walked in. 

“We need you to look this over,” Coulson said, thrusting a file towards Tony. He looked serious, but then he always did.

“Official consulting hours are between eight and five every other Thursday,” Tony quipped as Pepper took the file. She handed him the thumb drive, and he plugged it into his system.

“This isn't a consultation.”

Tony watched as video of a vampire blowing up a SHIELD base -- the one in New Mexico, the one Tony wasn’t supposed to know about -- and nearly gasped. Only centuries of hiding his reactions kept his face schooled into mild concern. It was Loki. His love looked like hell: emaciated, bruised, dirty. Something was very, very wrong. And… his eyes were blue? That wasn’t right. What was going on?

Tony would play along with SHIELD until he’d gotten his hands on Loki. And if they dared touch him? All bets were off.

\---

Tony caught up with his love in Stuttgart, Germany. Unfortunately, Coulson’s so-called “Avengers” had beaten him there. The quinjet, which Tony had designed before he quit helping SHIELD, was hovering in front of a concert hall. Captain America (and god, Tony couldn’t believe Rogers had survived this long; he’d have to be careful around him) was fighting his sire on its steps. Loki looked… empty. Tony knew how Loki fought, on the rare occasions it had been necessary, and this wasn’t it.

No one had noticed Tony yet. He decided to make an entrance. “JARVIS, give me some music.” AC/DC’s ‘Shoot to Thrill’ began to play over the jet’s speakers. Perfect. Tony swooped in closer. He blasted Loki with a repulsor, knowing that it would do nothing but knock his sire over. “Make your move, asshole.” Loki wouldn’t recognize his voice through the suit’s filter, and he was glad for it. He had to be able to get Loki alone...

Loki put his hands up meekly as Tony landed in front of him. “Good move,” Tony said. What was his lover’s game here? ‘His lover.’ He still thought of Loki that way, even though it had been over a hundred years since Tony had walked away. It was only supposed to be for six months… Tony could have cried as he watched as Rogers put handcuffs on his. It hurt Tony to watch someone else touching his love so brusquely. The jet landed as Rogers pulled Loki up. Tony followed the pair onto the plane. No way was he leaving his sire alone with these monsters.

Romanoff was in the pilot’s seat, and Tony could hear her talking to Fury. They weren’t saying anything of interest, so Tony took his helmet off, bracing himself for anger, or sorrow, or… something.

Loki showed no sign of recognition.

Tony was devastated. Oh, his poor darling...

“I don't like it,” Rogers said quietly.

Tony pretended to be an asshole,as he did so often in this lifetime. “What? Rock of Ages giving up so easily?” 

He went back and forth with Rogers a bit. After a while, the Captain was sick of Tony. Good. Tony had never liked him, even back when Tony called himself Howard and used another face. “Fury didn't tell me he was calling you in.”

Tony snorted. “Yeah, there's a lot of things Fury doesn't tell you.”

Suddenly there was a thud on the roof of the plane. Everyone looked up, even Loki. The ramp opened, and a large blond vampire was climbing inside. He had long hair and a beard, and that’s all Tony could tell before the vamp grabbed Loki by the throat and jumped out the plane.

It took Tony a second to get a grip -- what the _hell_ was going on? -- before he put on his helmet and leapt out after them. Rogers was yelling at him. Loki was _his_ sire, and he’d be damned before he let some asshole make off with him.

The unknown vampire and Loki were talking at the base of the mountain below. Tony plowed into the blond, knocking him off his feet and down to the land below. The blond stood. Tony kept his distance, and opened his helmet.

“Do not touch me again!” the blond exclaimed.

Tony bristled. “Then don't take my stuff.”

“You have no idea what you're dealing with.” God, what an arrogant bastard. Tony wanted to kill him immediately.

“Shakespeare in the park?” Tony mocked. “Doth mother know you weareth her drapes?”

“This is beyond you, metal man. Loki is my child, and he must face justice!” This was Thor, then. Loki had told Tony about him when they’d first met; his sire had been right about Thor’s self-righteous bluster.

“He hasn’t belonged to you in millennia.” Tony closed his helmet. “He’s _mine_.” Before Thor could respond, Tony tackled him, shoving his body weight against the other and knocking him to the ground. Tony grabbed his hand. He placed it on the arc reactor to drain the vamp of his strength.

Unfortunately, Captain Fucking America decided to interrupt.

“Hey! That's enough!” Rogers looked at Thor as Tony stood. Thank fuck Rogers hadn’t noticed Thor’s hand against his arc reactor. Tony didn’t want SHIELD knowing what it could do. “Now, I don't know what you plan on doing here.”

Thor puffed up. “I've come here to put an end to Loki's schemes!”

“Then prove it!” Rogers looked ready to attack if need be. Like the twerp stood a chance alone against a vampire Thor’s age. “Stop fighting us!”

Thor bared his fangs at Rogers. He went for Rogers, ready to draw blood. Tony hit him in the back of the head as hard as he could. Thor fell to the ground. Rogers took a stake from his belt and shoved it into Thor’s chest. The vampire screamed, and crumbled to ash.

Tony spared a glance at Loki. His sire was standing there watching, glassy-eyed. Thor -- the monster who bullied him, raped him -- was dead, and Loki wasn’t reacting. He could have fled by now and no one would have noticed. Yet Loki did nothing.

Rogers was panting heavily. It no doubt took all his strength to stake Thor; the vampire had been older than dirt. “One down.” He looked over at Loki. “Should we take out the other one? He doesn’t seem to be moving.”

Tony shook his head, aiming for disinterest. He’d kill Rogers and Romanoff both before he’d let them have Loki. “Fury wants to talk to him, find out why he blew up the base. Vamps usually don’t do something that big unless they’re plotting more. He might have friends.” And if he did, Tony needed to know. Loki wasn’t himself at all. Could someone else be controlling him? At Loki’s age, it would take an Ancient One to take over his mind. Tony had thought they were all dead or hibernating. Fuck.

They rounded Loki up and put him back on the jet, which Romanoff had landed in a nearby clearing.

Tony would get to the bottom of this -- no matter whom he had to kill to do it.


	8. Reunion

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again, a few lines stolen and remixed from the first Avengers film...

Tony watched as a dozen SHIELD agents in riot gear led Loki away in handcuffs. He kept his face passive, even as every cell in his body screamed for him to rescue his sire and steal him away to safety.

Romanoff lead Tony and Rogers to the observation side of a mirrored interrogation room. Coulson was waiting. “Fury’s hoping to find out if he’s working with anyone before we execute him,” he said. They watched as Loki was handcuffed to a chair. Adamantium or vibranium cuffs, no doubt. Tony raged inside with the need to free Loki.

A few minutes later, Fury came in to stand across from Loki. He crossed his arms, attempting to look menacing. Loki just stared at him blankly. “This could go two ways. Either you tell us who you’re working with, and we’ll let you die peacefully. Or we can torture you for it.” Fury shrugged. “Your call.”

Loki seemed to notice him then. “Nicholas Fury. We both know you wish to torture me regardless. That’s what you to do my kind, is it not?”

Fury snorted. “Your _kind_ don’t deserve peaceful deaths. Not after all the blood on your hands.”

“Most of us coexist with humans. Few kill, these days, and when they do it’s to save themselves from people like you.” Loki looked pissed. Tony didn’t blame him. He’d hated Fury ever since the mortal decided to expand SHIELD from just destroying rogue vampires to killing indiscriminately, and had pulled his funding from them. They’d been hurting ever since.

“This from a monster who blew up 83 people yesterday.”

Loki sneered. “I can read your mind, Nicholas Fury. It burns you to know that you’ll never be one of us. You will never know real power.”

Fury gave a wide, fake smile. “Well, you let me know if Real Power wants a magazine or something.” He turned and left.

Coming into the observation room, Fury said, “He’s not going to give us anything. Let’s get this over with.”

Tony was trying to decide whether to snap his neck or feed on him before Romanoff spoke up. “Let me have a try, sir. Maybe he’ll respond better to kindness.”

Fury shrugged. “Be my guest.”

Loki arched an eyebrow as she walked into the room. “Playing nice so soon?”

“You expected this.” Romanoff’s face gave nothing away.

“After. After whatever tortures Fury can concoct, you would appear as a friend, as a balm. And I would cooperate.”

Romanoff didn’t blink. “I want to know what you've done to Agent Barton.”

Loki smiled beatifically. “I'd say I've expanded his mind.”

“And once you've won. Once you've destroyed SHIELD. What happens to his mind?”

Loki cocked his head. “Is this love, Agent Romanoff?”

Romanoff laughed. It wasn’t a happy sound. “Love is for children. I owe him a debt.”

Loki arched an eyebrow. “And what will you do if I vow to spare him?”

“Not let you out,” she responded immediately.

Loki laughed. “Ah, no. But I like this. Your organization in the balance, and you bargain for one man?”

“I tend not to weep over such things. I'm Russian... or was.”

Loki scoffed. “You lie and kill in the service of liars and killers. You pretend to be separate, to have your own code, something that makes up for the horrors. But they are a part of you, and they will never go away.

“I won't touch Barton -- not until I make him kill you. Slowly, intimately, in every way he knows you fear. And when he'll wake just long enough to see his good work, and when he screams, I'll split his skull.” Loki smiled. “This is my bargain.”

Romanoff narrowed her eyes. “You're a monster.”

“And you aren’t?”

Romanoff left the room, returning to Fury’s side. “Call the execution team. He’s useless.”

Suddenly there was an explosion that shook the base. SHIELD agents poured in. Tony readied himself to fight his way to Loki, but they uncuffed him. Loki stood and went with them, seemingly of his own free will.

“Traitors,” Fury muttered as three agents entered the observation room. They held everyone at gunpoint. Tony, still in his suit, put his helmet on faster than the human eyes could follow. “JARVIS, flash-bang grenade.” Tony was protected. The rest of them weren’t. They all fell to the ground. Quickly, as the grenade momentarily blinded the cameras, Tony picked up one of the agents’ guns and shot the surveillance equipment. Another gun ended the lives of Fury, Coulson, Romanoff, and Rogers. Then he used Fury’s gun to kill the rogue agents. There. One firefight constructed, and four hunters -- possibly seven -- dead. It was a good start.

He followed empty halls in the direction Loki had taken, dropping small but powerful explosive charges as he went. The base was tiny, hardly more than a two-story office building, and it seemed most people had gotten out. SHIELD was fairly small, especially after Tony had pulled funding and they’d had to downsize. Between the loss of this base and their main one -- the one Loki had destroyed -- they wouldn’t exist any longer. Tony exited the building to see a helicopter taking off. _Loki_. He could catch up to the chopper in a moment. First, he had something to do.

Turning to face the building, he set off the charges. Watching SHIELD explode was one of the most gratifying moments of his life, but he didn’t have time to enjoy it. He took to the air. Loki was his only priority. His everything. He had to save him.

He caught up to the helicopter easily, and ripped the door off its hinges. Entering the chopper, he used his repulsors to gun down everyone aboard and grabbed Loki. The rogue agents might be helping his sire, but Tony didn’t need any witnesses left behind. They were over open fields, in upstate New York. Nobody would be hurt by the helicopter crashing to the ground.

Loki didn’t fight back as Tony leapt from the helicopter with his sire in his arms. He was back to being glassy-eyed, like he wasn’t even there.

Tony made the flight back to his tower in record time. It was nearing dawn. He took Loki into the blessedly empty penthouse and set him down. He took off his helmet, stepped out of his suit, and took a deep breath.

Those empty blue eyes stared at him. “What is it you want from me?”

“Loki. It’s me, Antonio.” His spoke in Loki’s native Old Norse, a language Loki had taught him centuries ago. Tony hoped it might spark a memory in his love. “What has happening to you, my darling one?”

The blue of Loki’s eyes flickered for an instant. “An-Antonio? My head is so full of… someone…” And then the blue deepened, and Loki spoke Latin in a voice not his own. “He is mine, young one. And you will not be rid of me so easily.”

“Who are you?” Fury welled up in Tony’s heart. Who _dared_.

“Names have power, child.”

“Fuck you.” Tony grit his teeth. If an Ancient was riding Loki, as he thought, there was only one way to free him. He punched Loki in the head, as hard as he dared.

Loki fell to the ground with a cry. He shuddered once, and lay still.

Tony picked him up and carried him to his bedroom, muttering a litany of apologies to his lost lover. “I’m so sorry, sweetheart, I really hope that helped, I need you to come back to me…”

As Tony laid him down, Loki’s eyes fluttered open. They were green once more. “Antonio?”

“There you are, my darling,” Tony said in Old Norse. “What happened to you? Are you all right?”

“My head hurts,” Loki said, rubbing the healing scalp with one hand. “And I thirst.” He looked distressed. “There was an Ancient, he wanted to destroy SHIELD…”

Tony laughed bitterly. “Well, that’s done. Hopefully he’ll leave you alone now.”

“I doubt it,” Loki replied weakly.

“Would you feed from me, my love?”

Loki’s eyes shone with tears. “Am I still your love?”

“Of course you are, Loki, you always have been, I never stopped loving you.” Tony was crying and he didn’t care. Because Loki was too. They were finally together again.

“I love you too, my Antonio. I have missed you so very much.”

“And I you, sweetheart.” Tony laid down and wrapped his arms around his love, baring his throat. “Drink, my darling. We will sleep, and talk tonight.”

Loki’s fangs slid into Tony’s neck, and Tony wept from the beauty of it. Loki drank deep, and Tony knew he would feel it come evening, but he would gladly give every drop of himself to his sire.

They were together, and they would never be parted again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And that's it, folks. Hope you enjoyed this dark little ride with our two favorite boys. 
> 
> Thanks again to my beta **MxVampirePunk**. I couldn't do it without you, my friend.


End file.
